


The Willing Heart

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Series: Light-Bringer [1]
Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Redeemed Lone Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: A mortal incarnation of the Lone Power takes the Wizard's Oath, and tries to adjust to Their changed circumstances.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lips to the Vessels, Throats to the Heavens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/116892) by [yuletidefairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletidefairy/pseuds/yuletidefairy). 



> So first of all, this was inspired by a wonderful fic by yuletidefairy, which you should all go and read first because I don't want to spoil you for it. Link should be above. 
> 
>  
> 
> ...read it? Good. Anyway, I loved the idea of a version of the Lone Power taking the Oath, but I wanted to know how the Lone Power would adjust to that kind of change. I've had the idea floating around in my head for years now, so I finally sat down and wrote it. It is not a sequel to yuletidefairy's fic: it just deals with one of the same ideas.
> 
> Secondly, this whole fic is a bit hand-wavey where the timeline is concerned. So bear with me on that.
> 
> Thirdly, I use 'They' and 'Them' as gender-neutral pronouns for my mortal incarnation of the Lone Power, who basically doesn't see themself as having a gender. (I know that 'It' is used in the books, but it seemed to me that the Lone Power wouldn't think of themself with a word which we use for things rather than people. Hence 'They' and 'Them.') To distinguish from a general 'them' or 'they' I have capitalised the pronouns wherever they refer to my mortal incarnation of the Lone Power. 
> 
> Finally, this was originally going to be longer, but I ran out of steam partway through, so this is what I've got. Also, this may or may not be in character, although I tried. You are warned.

** The Willing Heart **

**_ ‘Wizardry does not live in the unwilling heart.’ – An old wizarding proverb _ **

Afterwards, Nita Callahan and Kit Rodriguez kept staring at Them.

This was fair, They supposed, considering who They were – or who They’d been, rather. It was Kit who asked the same nagging question that the Power was thinking.

“So what do we call you, now?”

“I don’t know,” They answered honestly. Honesty – that was another thing that felt unfamiliar after so long twisting the truth to suit Their purpose, even though that was soon going to change now that They were a wizard. “As a wizard, I’m no longer alone, so ‘the Lone Power’ doesn’t really fit anymore, does it?”

They weren’t used to feeling this uncertain. It brought Them no satisfaction to see that Kit and Nita looked just as unsure of themselves.

“Well, you’re going to need to figure it out,” said Nita. “Most wizardry depends on knowing your name in one way or another, you know.”

“I know,” They said, a little annoyed at her presumption – _her_ , a child, lecturing _Them_ on wizardry? As though They hadn’t had aeons longer to learn about it than she had. “Believe me, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“You’re a wizard now, though,” Kit said quietly. “And I’m betting wizardry looks rather different from the other side.”

That was true enough, and so They said nothing. The silence stretched out.

It had been a moment of weakness, taking the Oath. A moment of aching loneliness poorly suppressed, of pride worn down by the passing of time (even They, in this form, were not entirely exempt from the effects of entropy) – and a moment of damnable curiosity, combined with a longing that had temporarily surpassed common sense. They’d been offered a chance… and this time, in this incarnation, They’d taken it.

And now They were a _wizard_ , sworn to do battle against other slivers of Themself. Talk about inner conflict.

They snorted in ironic amusement at the thought, and watched as the other two started warily.

“I’m not going to bite, you know.”

“So you say,” Kit muttered, and was elbowed by Nita.

They smiled suddenly, sharp and wide.

“Well, not without consent, anyway, although you’re a bit young for that sort of thing. Wizards like to be safe, sure and consensual about these things.”

Nita and Kit made faces in complete unison, as though Their words conjured up images the two of them would rather not contemplate. It was a nice distraction from the inner turmoil that They were experiencing.

They couldn’t help asking themselves whether they’d made the right decision, and couldn’t help wondering what would happen now. After aeons of certainty and treading a well-worn path, trying something _new_ was more terrifying than it should have been. 

Perhaps that alone was reason enough for Them to stick to being a wizard, no matter how strange the whole thing felt.

They realised that silence had fallen again, and that Kit and Nita were looking at Them.

“Nita and I should probably be getting home,” said Kit.

“Will you be okay?” Nita asked quietly, unexpectedly, and They had just enough of Their pride left, after everything, to say,

“Of course I will.”

It wasn’t quite a lie, and therefore permissible.

* * *

The next morning They went to work, as usual. They might be a mortal avatar of the Lone Power, but even They needed a way to keep a roof over their head.

Until now, They had worked in a prestigious law firm, in a cushy corner office with a nice view of the city, doing Their best to help entropy along by sowing discord and injustice. They had been very good at it. The pay-check had been a nice bonus.

Now, They looked over their current case files with dismay. Most of the people they had been assigned were as guilty as sin, and there was no way that They could, as a wizard, defend these people in court, knowing that they had done terrible things. 

As They sat back, contemplating what to do next, a man in a courier’s uniform appeared at Their office door, carrying a large box.

“Can I help you?” They asked, and was surprised to discover that They meant it.

“Special delivery,” the courier said. “Sign here, please.”

They signed where indicated, using their mortal name, and accepted the large box with a certain amount of curiosity.

“Have a nice day,” the courier said, and disappeared back into the rest of the building.

They shut Their office door, before putting the large, heavy package down on Their desk, and using a pair of scissors to open the box. Inside, packed inside pieces of plastic foam to keep it safe, was a machine. It was a sleek, shiny thing, and they secretly rather adored sleek shiny things. This one closely resembled a popular brand of laptop computer except for the logo, which was slightly but significantly different. A smirk touched Their lips as They noticed the difference. An apple, untasted… as a symbolic icon it was, They had to admit, rather neat and clever. A small thing, but a potent one, as symbols often were.

Their finger hovered over the Manual’s  ‘on’ button, and They told Themself not to be ridiculous – They had already made Their choice, after all, and using the Manual would make absolutely no difference at this point. 

They pressed the ‘on’ button.

The machine whirred to life.

“Hello,” They said. The Manual let out an ‘ _eep_.’

“It’s _you!_ ”

They smiled.

“Yes. But I’m a wizard, now. You have no cause to fear me.”

“If you say so,” said the Manual.

“What do I call you?” They asked. The Manual’s answer came only after a long pause, and it was tinged with embarrassment.

“Rex.”

“Your name means ‘king?’” They sat down at their desk and propped their chin up on one hand, watching the Manual.

“Sure,” said Rex. “Let’s pretend that’s what I was named for.”

There was a moment of silence, Manual and wizard staring at one another. 

They broke the silence.

“Would you bring up the listing for all the wizards within this metropolitan area, please?”

Rex did so, and They scrolled down, until they found what they were looking for.

“The Wizard Formerly Known as the Lone Power,” they read aloud. As names went, it wasn’t great: it was more than a title than a name, really. But They supposed that it would do, for now, at least until They came up with something that _fit_.

Beneath Their ‘name’ was Their home address and phone number, and the words, _novice, pre-rating_.

“So I still have to go on Ordeal,” They mused aloud, for Rex’s benefit. “That’s… interesting.”

“How does that even work?” Rex asked. “I mean… you’re _you_.”

“Yes, but I’m also a wizard,” They said thoughtfully. “Which puts me at odds with the rest of me, just as it would any other wizard. I suppose that the Ordeal is supposed to make _sure_.”

“Sure of what?”

“That this really is my choice, and not something that I’m going to back out of.”

Rex had no answer to that. 

They stared out the window, out at the cluttered cityscape, and felt some measure of regret for the choice that they were about to make.

“Do you have email and word processing software, Rex?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I need to draft a letter of resignation.”

Not that it was a choice at all, really. More of a natural consequence of the choice they’d already made.

* * *

That evening, They were settling down for an evening of watching trashy television in the absence of anything else to do, when the doorbell rang. Being curious, they got up to open the door.

A redheaded girl in a Star Wars t-shirt stood in the open doorway, staring at Them.

“ _Dai stiho_ ,” They said, after a moment of silence.

“ _Dai stiho_ ,” Dairine Callahan said back, still staring. “Well. So it’s true. You really _are_ a wizard.”

They resisted the urge to sigh, and deliberately smiled instead. Hadn’t They just been wishing for something better way to occupy Themselves than watching terrible TV?

“I am. Would you like to come in?”

Dairine gave Them a narrow-eyed, calculating look, but said, “Sure,” and breezed past Them, into the main living area. Her eyes immediately went to the Manual sitting on the glass surface of the dining table at the other end of the room, although she left Rex alone, for the moment. She turned around slowly, her eyes scanning over everything: taking in the enormous flat-screen television, the expensive leather sofa sitting in front of it, and the pristine whiteness of the carpeted and tiled areas.

“That doesn’t look very energy-efficient,” she said, eyeballing the TV.

“I know,” They said. “I bought it in part because it wasn’t. Hastening the entropy process, and all that.”

Dairine gave Them a sharp grin.

“You’re going to have to do something about that.”

They said nothing, because of course They knew that. 

“So, The Wizard Formerly Known as the Lone Power,” said Dairine. “Nice name. Catchy.”

They scowled a little, unused to being teased, even if the teasing wasn’t malicious in nature.

“It will do, until I find another.”

“Uh-huh. Do you have any soda?” Dairine wandered over to the couch and made herself at home.

They felt a flash of irritation, even as they were wryly aware that if anyone was owed a debt by Them, it was Dairine Callahan. What she’d done might not apply to this incarnation of Them, which existed separate from the rest of the Lone Power, but… because of her, the Lone Power had been accepted back into the fold. 

They resented Dairine’s actions at the same time as they appreciated them – and anyway, personal feelings meant nothing in the face of a debt to be repaid. So They only frowned as Dairine made herself comfortable on the couch, and said nothing. Whether They liked it or not, They owed Dairine, and allowing her to sit on Their couch without protest was the very least they could do to repay that debt.

“No soda, but I do have vodka,” They offered grudgingly. Dairine made a face.

“Yuck. I’m way too young to drink vodka.”

“I know, but it might be amusing to watch, all the same,” They said. The words came out on their own, without any sincerity behind them; out of habit, more than anything. They were used to keeping people wary, off-guard. Being welcoming was harder than it seemed.

Dairine levelled Them with a suspicious look.

“Uh-huh. Say that again, in the Speech.”

They frowned, and didn’t respond. They knew as well as she did that saying something they didn’t mean was impossible in the Speech.

“That’s what I thought,” Dairine said, satisfied. “Boy, if you’re trying to be the one the good guys, you’ve still got a _looong_ way to go.”

“Excuse me?”

“Comments like that one aren’t exactly going to win people over,” Dairine explained. “You might not be the Lone Power anymore, but people aren’t going to be rushing to believe that, especially if you keep acting like _It_.”

“But I _am_ the Lone Power, or at least a portion of Them. They are me, and I am Them. My being a wizard doesn’t change who I _am_. If others don’t like it, what do I care?” 

“Because deep down, you _do_ care,” said Dairine, as irritating as she was correct. “I could see part of your mind, during my Ordeal. You’re lonely, even if you won’t admit it. And even the company of mere mortals is better than nothing.”

They scowled.

“Little wizard, you are beginning to annoy me. Have a care.”

Dairine snorted, unfazed.

“You’re only saying that because I’m right.”

There was a quiet, musical sound from Rex, and the Manual extended an eyestalk curiously in Dairine’s direction. There was an excited whirr.

“Oh, wow! You’re Dairine Callahan!” The Manual sounded… awestruck. 

They glared at it.

Dairine grinned.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, reaching out to stroke a hand over Rex’s casing. Rex made a ‘ _meep_ ’ sound, startled at the contact.

“Is this guy treating you okay?” Dairine added.

“Sure,” said Rex. “I mean, They’re a wizard.”

Dairine only nodded, casting a sideways glance at Them.

“I know,” was all she said. She turned away from Their Manual, back to Them.

“So,” she said, “what were you doing before I got here?”

“I was planning on watching Survivor, actually.”

“Wait. _Really?_ ”

They looked at her.

“Okay, so really,” said Dairine. “You watch reality TV. Good to know.”

“I _am_ mortal,” They said, feeling somewhere between oddly defensive, and annoyed at the fact. “I have a life here, one which extends merely beyond making your lives miserable.” They realised that They’d spoken in the present tense, and corrected Themself. “Extended.”

Dairine sent them another one of those calculating looks.

“You’re still trying to get your head around the idea of being a wizard, aren’t you?”

“You must admit, it is a change,” They said. “A fairly substantial one. It is only natural that I would have trouble adjusting.”

“Why’d you do it?” Dairine asked bluntly. “What made you take the Oath?”

They looked down Their nose at her.

“That is hardly any of your business, little wizard.”

“Isn’t it? And stop calling me ‘little.’”

“No. It isn’t,” They said. “And since we’re apparently not bothering to stick to politeness, why are you _here?_ ” 

“Because I thought you could use a friend.” 

Dairine’s prompt answer threw Them for a loop.

They struggled for a moment to hide it, but Dairine, apparently, was able to see right through their attempt at concealing Their emotions.

“Look,” she said. “You think I’ve never been lonely, or wanted to lash out at the people who rejected me? I get it. We _all_ do.”

“I would suggest that being rejected by one of your peers is hardly equivalent to being cast out of Timeheart by the Powers,” They snapped, outraged by Dairine’s attempt at empathy.

“And being a wizard for the first time, staring death in the face and seeing It look back, while you’re all alone… well, I know how that feels, too,” Dairine went on, ignoring Their retort. “But you’re not alone. Not anymore. Even if it feels like it. There are people out there willing to lend their help, if you only ask for it.”

They resisted the desire to point out that _asking for it_ was against Their sense of pride. Pride, they knew, was a serious failing in a wizard. But it was an essential part of Their nature, and They didn’t think it would be leaving Them any time soon. Even though they were, now, a wizard Themself.

Dairine seemed to understand what They were thinking without Their saying anything. She let out an exasperated breath.

“What’s the point in not asking for help if it only makes you suffer?” she asked, and while They could see her point…

…for so long, pride was all that They’d had. In the aftermath of being cast out, They’d clung to it like a life raft in the middle of a stormy sea.

Letting go of it, after all this time, was going to be a task all in itself.

“Isn’t that the _teeniest_ bit hypocritical of you?” They asked, Their voice cold. “How often do _you_ seek the help of others?”

Dairine made a face: half-annoyed, half-rueful.

“Well, yeah. I know. But I’m learning,” she pointed out. “I go to Neets sometimes, if something’s really bugging me.”

They looked at her like she was an insect under a microscope.

“Are you proposing to be the person _I_ go to?”

“If you need one,” Dairine said firmly. “And let me tell you, you need one.”

They weren’t sure what to say to that, mostly because, privately, They were able to acknowledge that she was right: if They were to be a wizard – and They’d sworn the Oath, and meant it – then They were going to need help to shed the things that made them _un_ wizardly.

They were uncomfortably aware that this would mean unpacking a lot of issues that they would really rather remain unpacked.

“What I really need,” They said, reluctantly, because it was true, and they hated the fact that it was, “is a therapist.”

Dairine’s eyebrows nearly flew off her forehead.

“Uh. I wasn’t – I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” she admitted, her voice a little strangled.

They glared, venomously, and she held her hands in the air to show she meant no harm.

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” she said. “It was just, uh, unexpected.” She was quiet for a moment. “You know, me and Nita needed to see a therapist, for a while. He knows about wizardry. I wonder if he’d be willing to see you?”

“It seems unlikely,” They said dryly. Dairine grinned.

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised.”

They realised that They were still standing in the middle of the room while Dairine was sprawled comfortably on the couch, as though They were the guest and not her. That, They decided, was unacceptable. They moved to the other side of the couch, and sat down, Their spine straight and unbending, in contrast to Dairine’s inelegant sprawl.

Dairine looked at Them curiously. They was forced to admit that she, at least, didn’t show an ounce of fear or unease, unlike her sister and Kit, whose unease had been palpable.

“You seem to be taking this whole thing rather well,” They said, gesturing down at Themself; by ‘this whole thing’ They meant ‘Them being a wizard.’

Dairine shrugged.

“Well, I always felt sorry for you.”

They sat even straighter than before, with a flash of white-hot fury.

“You _dare_ –”

“Stupid,” said Dairine. “Not the kind of sorry where you use it as an excuse to feel better than other people. I mean the sort of sorry where you wish you could _help_. You know – the whole reason for becoming a wizard in the first place.”

They settled slightly back down on the couch, Their fury slightly lessened, but still burning.

“That’s not why _you_ became a wizard,” They said. Dairine had a hint of Them in her heart, after all – just enough for Them to know things like that. “You wanted to defeat evil. To punch Darth Vader right in the helmet, wasn’t that right?”

Dairine squirmed a little. 

“Maybe,” she allowed, with a trace of embarrassment. “But the other stuff was still there, too.”

They said nothing.

Dairine checked the time, and frowned.

“Nuts. I promised I’d be home for dinner. I’d better go.” She stood and stretched, before fixing a firm gaze on Them.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, before using a spell to disappear from the middle of Their apartment with a loud _bang_.

Young wizards, They thought. Always in such a hurry to use wizardry when there were other ways of doing things.

They sat there on the couch for a while, listening to the silence. Then, instead of turning on the TV, They said, “Rex?”

“Yeah?” 

“You can surf the internet, can’t you?”

“Sure, why?”

“Find me the most energy-efficient television on the market, if you please.”

* * *

That weekend, with Rex’s assistance, they spent some time going through online job listings, looking for a new job. They had just under two weeks until Their notice at their current job was up, and They wanted to move into a new job just as soon as They were finished at Their current one.

The problem was, what kind of job did they _want_ , and could they find one which made use of Their skills while being compatible with the moral demands of wizardry?

One of the job listings caught their eye. It was for a small, pro-bono law firm, which was looking to expand the roster of lawyers on its payroll. They knew the firm in question. They had gone up against the firm once before in court, and knew that the firm was good at what it did. They also had a reputation for helping those in need, which fit perfectly with the obligations of wizardry.

They asked Rex to note down the details of the advertisement, before drafting out a current resume and cover letter to send to the firm.

They received a reply two days later, inviting them to schedule an interview with the firm. They did so.

So it was that a few days later, They found themselves walking into a large open-plan office, crowded with desks and filing cabinets. People were sitting at their desks, either typing busily or talking on the phone.

A man who had been sitting at his desk stood. He eyed Their expensive suit – probably the most expensive item in the entire room – and walked over to Them.

“Lucien Milton,” the man greeted Them by Their mortal name, offering Them a hand. They shook it. “I’m David Allbright. Please, take a seat over here.”

Allbright gestured towards his desk, and They moved to take one of the cheap folding chairs in front of it. Allbright took a seat behind his desk. He steepled his fingers, and looked at Them with eyes that were intelligent and keen.

“Mr Milton,” he said, getting straight down to business. “You were the opposing counsel for a civil lawsuit we took on a couple of years ago, I believe. I remember you rather vividly.”

They didn’t let Their face change from the expression of polite attentiveness they were wearing, even though Allbright’s words sounded ominous. 

“Likewise.”

“I have to ask,” said Allbright. “Why, after years of successfully defending murderers, rapists, and corporations with less-than-ethical practices, would you apply for a position at a small pro-bono firm which prides itself on helping the oppressed and disenfranchised?”

“You know my reputation, then.”

“Rather well,” Allbright agreed dryly, and waited.

They considered how best to respond. It was a fair enough question, but one that was surprisingly difficult to answer. They wanted to lie, but the promptings of wizardry demanded that They tell the truth.

“I suppose,” They said finally, “that I came down with a crisis of conscience.”

Allbright raised his eyebrows, politely disbelieving.

“A crisis of conscience.”

“Yes,” They agreed. “For a long time, I took pride in the fact that I almost never lost a case, even when the defendant was obviously guilty. I saw it as a test of my skill, instead of a test of my morals.” They hesitated. “It was my pride, more than anything, which spurred me on. I wanted to prove that I was more than capable… and if I’m honest, sometimes – no, often – I took on a case simply to spite those who I knew thought ill of me.” 

Allbright continued to listen without comment.

“However,” They said slowly, “pride isn’t everything. And after all this time trying to prove myself, I’m rather sick of it. The life I lived… it was a lonely and ultimately unsatisfying one. So I thought that I’d try something different.” 

“So for you, this isn’t about helping people.” Allbright summed up Their words. “This is all about you.”

“Not entirely,” They admitted. “I… _want_ to care. To feel compassion. And I feel that this might be a place where I could learn.”

Allbright stared at Them for a long time.

“Well, I won’t deny we could use someone with your expertise and skill,” he said finally. “We’ll be in touch.” It was clearly a dismissal. 

They nodded.

“Thank you for your time,” They said, and left.

A week later, They received a call telling Them that They’d gotten the job.

* * *

To Their perplexity, it became clear that Dairine had meant it when she’d said she would be back.

Every couple of days she would stop by, bringing with her tales of wizardry at work. Sometimes she was tired and somewhat irritable, after completing the demands of both school and errantry, but she stopped by anyway. 

They were surprised to find that in spite of everything, They appreciated the company. To have someone _know_ who They were – and seek them out anyway, not expecting Them to be anything other than what They were – was strangely comforting, no matter how much They resisted the fact. 

The fourth time Dairine stopped by for a visit, They said, “There’s soda in the fridge, if you want it,” and Dairine beamed at Them with such approval that part of Them wanted to do something terrible, just to wipe that look off her face. The rest of Them, to Their horror, felt Their mood lift just a little. They resolved never to tell Dairine. They suspected that if she knew, she’d wield that approval with all the precision and power of a laser-weapon.

It was Dairine, with Nita’s help, who arranged for Them to have a session with the therapist she’d mentioned. While the therapist was associated with the girls’ school and didn’t usually take on many other patients, he had agreed to a try-out session with Them, since it was unlikely there were many other therapists who, if they understood wizardry, would be willing to have Them as a patient.

Which was how, the next weekend, They found themselves sitting in a small household office, while the therapist stared at Them, waiting for Them to speak.

They said nothing.

“So you’re the being who invented death and entropy,” Mr Millman said eventually, when it became clear that They weren’t about to say anything.

“I’m not sorry.”

“And yet, obviously you’ve thought better of your actions,” Millman prodded gently. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have sworn an Oath to serve life.”

“Don’t rub it in,” They muttered. 

There was another silence. Millman made a note on his notepad. They tried unobtrusively to read it upside-down.

“Is there anything you wish to talk about?” Millman asked.

They took a deep breath, told Themselves that this was for Their own good and everyone else’s, and started to talk.

* * *

Despite the passing of time, Their listing in the Manual continued to read _novice, pre-rating,_ with no sign of Their Ordeal. Their two weeks’ notice at their old firm ran out, and They started Their new job at Allbright & Associates. 

The other lawyers were clearly suspicious of Them, but They were diligent in their work, and unfailingly patient with even the most trying of clients. They were used to pouring all their resources into working for a client – the fact that Their aim was now to actually _help_ the client (instead of that help being a side-effect of Their particular form of assisting entropy) didn’t change the fact that They were accustomed to working hard in pursuit of Their goal. The goal might have altered: but their work habits hadn’t.

Which was just as well. Everyone at Allbright & Associates was chronically overworked.

Almost everyone else was out for lunch and They were doing research on a case when Clara – one of the other lawyers at the firm, and the only other person who wasn’t on lunch break – dumped a potted plant on Their desk. They stared at it, then looked up at Clara.

“What is this?”

“It’s a plant.”

“I can see that.”

Their gaze demanded to know _why_ there was a plant on Their desk.

Clara shrugged a little.  

“Think of it as a welcome-to-the-firm present.”

They looked at her.

“I’ve been working here for a week.”

Clara shrugged again.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure you meant it, at first.” Her mouth curved in a secret smile. “You’ve got to admit, when the avatar of That Power starts working at the same place you do, it’s good reason to be suspicious.”

They stared.

“You’re a wizard.”

They felt irritated, and somehow irrationally betrayed. They had a presence in everyone’s hearts, and They could have used it to find out more about Their colleagues – but it had seemed unwizardly to do so. Discovering that one of Their colleagues was actually one of those in Life’s service and They’d had no idea made Them feel foolish.

Clara smiled.

“ _Dai stiho_.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you gave me a plant,” They said, after a moment’s silence, putting aside Their conflicted emotions.

“I was here when you had your interview,” said Clara. “I overheard what you said to David, about wanting to learn how to care. Think of this as a first step.”

“It’s a plant.”

Clara gave him a look that suggested she thought They were being deliberately dense. They were, but weren’t about to admit it.

“It’s a living thing,” Clara said. “Look after it. Wizardry on a small scale is just as important as the big flashy stuff.”

They reached out a hand to the plant, and brushed a leaf with one tentative finger.

“ _Greetings_ ,” They said in the Speech. The leaf trembled slightly, and a barely-audible _Well-met_ drifted back.

They looked up at Clara, who was watching Them with a funny look on her face.

“Thank you,” They said – not grudgingly, but with genuine sincerity. 

Inexplicably Clara blushed a little.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” she muttered.

They took the plant home that evening, putting it in the middle of Their glass-topped dining table, where it would receive enough sunlight through the plate-glass windows to live, and live well. 

“ _What species and variety of plant are you?_ ” They asked in the Speech. The answer They received made Them sigh in annoyance, but They looked up the plant’s care instructions on the internet anyway.

They were carefully watering Their new companion when Dairine arrived in a blast of displaced air, right in the middle of the main living area. The plant trembled slightly at the sound, and They ran a soothing hand over its leaves, ignoring Dairine for the moment.

“ _It’s alright, that’s just an… acquaintance of mine_ ,” They told the plant. “ _She tends towards dramatic entrances.”_

Dairine blinked.

“What’s with the plant?”

“One of my colleagues gave it to me,” They said wryly. “A reminder that wizardry starts small.”

“I didn’t know you worked with another wizard,” Dairine said in some surprise. Their mood soured slightly.

“Neither did I.” They looked down at the plant on Their dining table. “She gave me a Peace Rose.”

Dairine snorted, and didn’t even try to hide her amusement.

“Yes, I know, very amusing,” They snapped. But they gently stroked one of the Peace Rose’s leaves one last time before turning away from it, towards Dairine.

“Whoever you work with, they’re brave,” Dairine commented, helping herself to a soda and sprawling out on the couch as usual.

“Wizards generally are,” They said. “To face me.” Their voice was matter-of-fact, but Dairine made a face.

“You’re not that impressive,” said Dairine. They stiffened.

“ _Aren’t_ I?” They asked, Their voice honey-sweet, and full of danger.

As usual, the danger-signal passed Dairine by.

“Nope. I mean, do you actually _do_ anything, besides watch TV and go to work?”

“I do good work,” They said. “And for a good cause, these days.”

“Not my point,” said Dairine. She grinned. “You’re a wizard. We should go somewhere.”

“We?”

“Well, yeah,” said Dairine. “Have you ever been to the Moon?”

They stilled.

“Not in this incarnation.”

“I have enough juice to get us both there, if you want,” Dairine offered. “Or we could go to the Crossings.”

“I cannot believe I am honestly contemplating going to the Moon with you,” They said. “ _You_.”

Dairine gave Them a patient look.

“Who else would you go with?”

She had, They were forced to admit, a point.

* * *

They didn’t quite know how it happened, but somehow, They ended up at Dairine and Nita’s house for dinner.

They’d been to the Moon with Dairine, and afterwards she’d dragged Them – more willing than They’d pretended – back to her home, where Dairine’s father, at least, seemed to be expecting Them. 

Harry Callahan had an honest, trustworthy look about him: the polar opposite of Them, They knew. He looked at Them with a long, considering kind of look that wasn’t unlike Dairine’s own, before he spoke.

“Dairine tells me you used to be the Lone Power.”

“Dad, don’t say the name. It gets It’s attention,” Dairine complained.

“She’s right,” They said. “It is… unwise, to speak that name. And I am only a fragment of the greater whole: a mortal avatar, if you will.”

Harry made a ‘hmm’ sound.

“Apparently you’re one of the good guys, these days.”

“I try,” They said, because wizards weren’t supposed to lie. “Whether I succeed is another thing altogether.”

Just then there was a clattering on the stairs, and Nita appeared, stopping short as she took in Their presence with wide eyes.

“Uh,” said Nita. “Dairine, what is _It_ doing here?”

“They,” They said, feeling suddenly tired, and angry with it. 

“What?”

“ _They_ , not _It_ ,” They said, because while English might not naturally have singular gender-neutral pronouns, humanity had come up with a reasonable work-around in the last decade or so. English-speaking wizards could, perhaps, be excused on the basis that they had been calling Them ‘It’ for centuries… but They found, quite suddenly, that They didn’t want to excuse Them.

“Huh,” said Dairine, understanding immediately. “Does that mean you’re genderqueer?”

“Little wizard,” They said, more mildly than They’d spoken to Nita, “Just because this part of me is trapped in a human body, with all its’ frailties, doesn’t make me _human_. Human genders do not apply to me. I am not a human being to whom the gender binary inexactly applies, because for Powers, there _is_ no gender binary.”

Nita blinked, almost at the same time as Dairine did.

“What’s genderqueer?” Nita asked, baffled.

“It means –” and Dairine spoke a single word in the Speech, which meant, _one for whom the binary categories of ‘man’ and ‘woman’ are insufficient in describing their gender_.

“Oh,” said Nita, enlightened. “I didn’t know that English had a word for that.” 

“Well, it does.” Dairine looked at Them. “So was that a yes or a no?”

They sighed.

“I suppose that ‘genderqueer’ is a better category than any of the others,” They admitted. 

As a mortal avatar, They had lived all their mortal life in a human body, and the assumption by others that Their body was gendered had begun before They had even been born, and only strengthened as They grew older. By this point they were used to others assuming that They belonged to a particular gender category. Being placed in that category still itched like something lurking beneath Their skin, but it was an itch They had long ago learned to tolerate and use to Their advantage.

But Dairine and Nita were wizards. If anyone was going to understand that human constructions of gender didn’t apply to Them, it would be two young wizards who were used to dealing with beings who sometimes constructed gender in ways that were very different to the way humans constructed gender.

Nita seemed a little surprised by the information that They were more-or-less genderqueer, but Dairine just accepted Their words with her usual matter-of-fact manner.

“Is someone going to explain what ‘genderqueer’ means in language that I can understand?” Harry asked mildly.

They met his eyes.

“‘Genderqueer’ is a term which describes people for who whom the categories of ‘man’ and ‘woman’ alone are insufficient to describe their gender. In my case, it means that I’m neither a man nor a woman, no matter what I looks like.”

Harry only nodded thoughtfully, taking this perfectly in stride, much as Dairine had. They decided suddenly that They liked the man, a sentiment They didn’t feel very often. But then, They somehow liked Dairine as well, even if she did sometimes get on Their nerves. Perhaps it was a general Callahan trait, that straightforward likeability.

Nita slanted Them another nervous glance as the small group sat down to dinner, clearly ill-at-ease with being around a mortal incarnation of the Lone Power, even one who had taken the Wizard’s Oath.

For Their part, They ate their food in a mannerly fashion, participated in polite small-talk with Harry, and responded appropriately to Dairine’s various remarks.

It was, They realised in surprise, an entirely pleasant experience. Nita might be a little uncomfortable with Their presence, but Dairine definitely wasn’t, and They had the feeling that Harry was carefully putting any possible prejudices aside to judge Them on Their own merits rather than the faults of the rest of Themself. 

They couldn’t help but be struck by the simple kindness of such an approach. It was clear to see where Dairine’s determined brand of kindness had come from.

“So what do you do when you’re not busy being a wizard?” Harry asked, and They put Their current train of thought aside, to examine further when They were alone.

“I haven’t actually done much wizardry, as of yet,” They said, a little ruefully. The issue of their name was still one which needed to be resolved. “But these days I work at a pro-bono law firm which prides itself on helping the community.”

“Wait, you haven’t done much wizardry yet?” Nita asked. “Why not?”

“I still haven’t figured out exactly who I am, now,” They said. “As you pointed out some weeks ago, doing wizardry is difficult if you can’t even work out your own name.”

“Oh.” Nita looked surprised. “I figured you’d have settled on something by now.”

“Nita,” They said, and saw her jump a little at hearing her name directly used by Them. “Knowing as you do exactly what I am, what I have been, and what I will one day be, it is really so surprising to know that finding myself a name which encompasses that totality is somewhat difficult?”

“Uh, well when you put it that way…”

“Exactly.”

After dinner Dairine offered to transport Them home to Their apartment again, and They accepted. 

“Thank you for dinner,” They told Harry, and meant it. “Both the meal and the company were delightful.”

Harry looked at Them hard, the same way Dairine sometimes did, as though Harry suspected Them of being sarcastic. But evidently he found nothing suspicious in Their demeanour, because after a moment Harry nodded.

“Feel free to drop round, if you ever need to,” Harry said, shaking Their offered hand. “If you ever need any advice, or assistance with anything... well, someone in this household is likely to be able to help.”

They stared at him, feeling off-balance at the offer.

“Thank you,” was all they could find the words to say. “That’s... very kind of you.”

“Come on,” said Dairine, “let’s go. I’ve still got homework to do after this.”

They allowed Dairine to transport Them home, still feeling a little shaken at Harry’s offer. They bid Dairine goodbye as she left, and sank down onto the nearest couch. For Harry to know exactly who They were, and to make that offer anyway... a man who had loved and lost, all because of Their actions...

It was goodness, pure and simple. Compassion, kindness... 

They’d begun to believe that perhaps They didn’t deserve those things, after introducing entropy and death to the universe, but people kept giving those things to Them anyway.

All They could do, They thought, was try and live up to whatever promise the others clearly saw in Them to forgive Them for everything that They’d done.

The niggling sense of guilt They’d been feeling for a while felt that little bit greater after meeting Harry Callahan, knowing the harm that They had wreaked in his life and that of his family.

But if someone like Harry could forgive Them for all of that... well, maybe there was hope for Them left still.

After all, in a universe with entropy, change was a constant of the universe, and even They were not immune.

* * *

The next day They had Rex bring up a diagram of Their name, as it was written in the Speech.

Frankly – to Their eyes, at least – it was a mess. Instead of the neat, precise order They were used to, identifiers were left hanging instead of being closed, too many parameters were left open-ended... A wizard’s name in the Speech described who they were and what their most important characteristics were. But Their name was only half-formed, with important information either addressed only vaguely, or left out altogether.

“How am I supposed to do wizardry with _this?_ ” They demanded, annoyed and frustrated – even though, if anyone was to blame for the stare of Their name, that blame rested squarely on Their shoulders.

If Rex could have shrugged, they would have.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Well, of course I will – but in the meantime, it is a most irritating hindrance,” They said, because false modesty had never really been one of their personality traits.

They took another look at Their name. The syllables of ‘Lucien Milton’ were there at the beginning of Their name, crisp and clear, acting as a foundation for other things to be built on, but everything else...

Everything else was up in the air, waiting to be resolved. When They weren’t the Power which stood alone, it seemed, They had no idea how else to define Themself. It was a problem, and one that They needed to solve.

Things came to a head sooner than They expected, however. After weeks of being a wizard, the expectation of Ordeal had fallen to the back of Their mind; thus it was that when Their Ordeal finally came, They were caught wrong-footed, not expecting it at all. The attack, when it came, came not from the outside, but from within. 

Their last memory was of going to bed for the night, but here They were, standing in the middle of Their apartment... or at least, what looked like Their apartment, except that where the walls should have been the floor and ceiling simply faded away into darkness. There was no sound at all, not even the distant thrum of traffic that was normally audible at all hours of the day and night.

They looked down at Themself. Instead of Their pyjamas, or Their usual suit, They were wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt which was identical in design to the Star Wars shirt which Dairine wore all the time.

When They looked up again, it was to the sight of Their doppelganger, wearing Their favourite suit, standing in the shadows at the edges of the room, and there was a darkness behind Their doppelganger’s eyes that They knew wasn’t just a trick of the light.

They had expected, in this moment, to feel conflicted and uncertain, but instead a sense of serene calm descended upon Them, and They stood tall in the brightly-lit living room and met Their doppelganger’s gaze head-on, while at the back of Their mind They began putting together a spell.

“Eldest, Fairest, and Fallen,” They said, and although Their voice was soft They may as well have shouted, given the oppressive silence. “Greetings, and the utmost defiance.”

Baffled fury crossed the Lone Power’s face. It was an expression They had felt Themselves wear, and to see it cross Their doppelganger’s identical face was surreal. 

“ _You’re_ working against _me?_ ” 

The two of them were in Their mind, They knew – which meant that even though the other aspect of the Lone Power was more powerful, They were the ones with the upper hand in this situation. They just had to remember to believe it.

“I suppose that I decided to grow up,” They said casually.

A portion of the Lone Power’s bewilderment was replaced with an even greater proportion of fury.

“Are you calling me _childish?_ ” the Lone Power demanded.

“Well, if the shoe fits...”

They ducked a blast of power full of malevolent intent.

“Or maybe I just don’t see the point in delaying the inevitable,” They added, avoiding a second blast.

“You _dare_ ,” said the Lone Power, in the same tone of voice that They had used against Dairine, weeks ago. “Do you really believe you can do this? You’re only another part of me, in the end. What good will fighting yourself do?”

“Rather a lot, I imagine,” They said dryly. “Besides, the rest of us is going to be redeemed eventually – remember? From one perspective, it’s already happened.”

A thunderous scowl crossed the Lone Power’s face.

“As though I care,” the Lone Power snapped. “The future has no bearing on the here and now. Perhaps I will be, have been redeemed – but here, in this place and time, you are facing _me_ , not a version of me that’s repented, of all things.” The Lone Power sneered. “Is that what drove you to take the Oath? _Repentance?_ ” The Lone Power’s derision at the idea was palpable.

They could feel the Lone Power scrabbling around inside Their head, looking for the reasons for Their defection to wizardry. They made sure that the spell They were building was carefully hidden.

“No,” They responded simply. “You want to know why I took the Oath? Then _look_.”

And while the Lone Power was still feeling around inside Their head, They pulled up every bit of loss and loneliness and aching despair They’d ever experienced.

The Lone Power reeled back as though struck.

They stood tall, and looked the Lone Power in the eye.

“ _This_ is why. Because I was tired of being the Power which stands alone. And deep down, so are you, aren’t you? Or maybe not quite yet – not quite tired _enough_. But one day it will all be too much for you, and you’ll let go of your spite and defiance and only want back everything you lost. Because when you doomed the universe to the experience of death and decay, you didn’t realise what you were opening _yourself_ up to in the process, did you? Someday you’re going to be worn down enough to be sorry, and when you do…”

They smiled a little. “There will be compassion and kindness waiting for you, even after all you’ve done. Because despite everything, you are _loved_.”

The Lone Power looked furious still, but also shaken and off-balance. They felt a stab of compassion – ridiculous, really, when they were both technically parts of a whole – and wondered if this was what Dairine had meant, when she’d said that she’d felt sorry for Them. 

“And when you’re finally ready to admit it, they’ll be waiting for you,” They added, and before the Lone Power could say anything, let loose the spell that They had been sneakily constructing at the back of Their thoughts. A light filled the room, driving away the shadows, but it was like no light on this Earth – instead it was brilliant and searing: the memory of a light that had long been left behind, the light at the centre of Timeheart.

The Lone Power screamed, recoiling at the touch of the light that the Lone Power had forsaken, and with one carefully-applied burst of power They booted the Lone Power out of Their mind.

They woke up in bed, feeling as tired as though They’d just fought a mighty battle, but far too wide awake to get back to sleep. For a long moment They simply sat there, thinking about what had just happened. Then They looked at the digital clock where it sat on the bedside table. It was a little before seven, and there was early morning light slanting from behind the bedroom curtains.

They got up, still in Their pyjamas, and went out to where Rex sat on the dining table.

“Rex?”

The Manual extended an eyestalk.

“Send a message to Dairine Callahan, if you please. Tell her that I just finished my Ordeal.”

“Okey-dokey,” said Rex, and there was a quiet, musical _ping_ as the message was sent.

They were halfway through making a cup of coffee when there was a loud bang, and Dairine appeared in the middle of the living area, looking a little bleary-eyed, but otherwise presentable in a t-shirt and shorts.

“I assume that you received my message,” They said, while Dairine blinked at the sight of Them.

“Did you go on Ordeal in your pyjamas?” Dairine demanded to know.

They grinned slightly at that, although the grin faded at the thought of Their Ordeal.

“Technically, I suppose,” They said, and recounted what had happened.

Dairine was quiet for a long moment. They spoke into the silence.

“I should thank you, for everything you’ve done for me, these past few weeks. It’s been… easier, with your support. I’d forgotten what it was like, not to always be on my own.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to help you,” said Dairine, looking a little uncomfortable with the expression of thanks. “And you’re not so bad, really.”

“Thank you,” They said, a little dryly. “Neither are you.”

“Well, I knew _that_ ,” said Dairine. “You wouldn’t have started buying soda, otherwise.”

They made a face, and Dairine grinned impudently.

They looked around at Their apartment. It was still an almost pristine white space, although the presence of the Peace Rose and the scuff marks on the tiles from Dairine’s sneakers made the place look a little more lived in. But They realised, with some surprise, that They wouldn’t really miss the apartment, when They had to leave it.

“You know,” They said, “I’m going to need to move out of here, soon. I can’t really afford the rent on my current salary. I should probably start looking for somewhere else to live.” 

“There’s a place for rent near Tom and Carl’s,” Dairine offered, looking far too interested for Their peace of mind. “The sign went up last week.”

“Do you mean the local Advisories?” They asked.

“That’s them,” Dairine agreed. “Me and Neets and heaps of other people drop by all the time. If you lived near them, you’d be at the centre of things. It’s probably about time you met Tom and Carl anyway.”

“Get me the details of the place for rent, and I’ll think about it.”

“Deal,” said Dairine.

* * *

Later, after work, once They finally arrived home, They looked up the diagram of Their name in the Speech again.

It was still a mess – there was no denying that – but there was also no denying that something important had been resolved. Some of the identifiers which had been left hanging were now neatly completed, and some of the open-ended parameters were now closed, making Their name a little more definite.

In particular, one vague identifier had moved to the forefront, and They stared at it. It had been part of Their name once before, but They’d forsaken it a long time ago. Seeing it reappear as part of who They were brought Them a tiny thrill as They realised that perhaps, with time, They could reclaim other aspects of Themself as well.

“Light-Bringer,” They mused, smiling. “I can work with that.”

There was a _ping_ from Rex, who said in explanation, “Incoming message,” when They looked at them.

“What is it about, and who is it from?”

“The local Advisories: apparently they want to meet you,” said Rex. “Whenever you’re free.”

“Send them a message asking if tonight would be suitable,” They suggested.

“Sure,” said Rex. “Will do.” There was another _ping_.

They wondered whether this was to be a purely social meeting, or whether the Advisories required Their assistance with something.

Either way, the thought brought with it a certain amount of anticipation, and They realised that or the first time, the prospect of doing wizardry was completely untinged with any kind of regret.

They were a wizard now, and They strongly suspected that whatever They had to go through in the future would be worth the price.

 

 


End file.
